𝔸𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥

forty three

"Do-yun. You're having second thoughts, why?"

"I've just been thinking."

"About what?"

"About Him."

-Two months later-

To say that Yoongi's life had significantly improved the subsequent days following his father's departure would be a serious understatement. Without his fathers constant presence, the stress and need to attend the office every weekend had suddenly dissipated. And apart from the occasional email from Eun-Jeong highlighting her concerns about his whereabouts, nobody really seemed to care that he wasn't showing up.

So, thank the Lord, sleep was finally back on the agenda. As was making his clients his priority once more. The love for his job that was cruelly wrung out of him slowly starts to seep back in, colouring his cheeks a healthy pink, speeding the beat of his heart, and putting a joyous pep in his step. The weekends were now used for, instead of boring office work, much-needed leisure time and also time to spend with Jimin. They spent frequent time together and it wasn't unusual for one of them to call the other and ask if they want to go out randomly.

Yoongi and Jimin had already confessed their love for each other, however, Yoongi finds himself falling in love again every single day.

Pink fluffy hair. Crescent moon eyes. Big bright smiles. Adorable infectious laughter. Words of encouragement. Soft, warm hands. A really cute expression when pissed off. Park Jimin is sunshine incarnate. And Min Yoongi is wrapped tightly around his finger.

The constant buzz of the tattoo needle had quickly become a comforting sound for Yoongi. The person he's currently working on has their earphones in and has definitely fallen asleep - this allows the black-haired man to take as much time as he needs without worrying about his client's pain tolerance. Jungkook is propped up on the front desk and giggling with Hoseok as they both share an instant pot of spicy ramen. They talk about silly things and Yoongi longs to join their conversation but knows that he needs one hundred percent concentration for his best work, so he stays quiet.

His client is getting some Japanese phrase that Yoongi doesn't understand but he's told it has something to do with love and justice. As long as he gets the money, Yoongi couldn't really care less what people wanted permanently engraved onto their bodies. The lines are bold and thick, graphologically very eye-catching and aesthetic.

A different sort of buzz slices through the air.

"Hyung, someone's calling you." Yoongi had left his phone on the consultation table. "Who is it?" He asks, not wanting to break his workflow. Jungkook hops off the desk to grab the elder's phone. "It's-" Doe eyes widen. "It's your dad."

Yoongi's hands freeze in place. His thumb slowly snakes around the tattoo gun to switch it off. He takes a deep breath. "Put it on speaker." He says. It had been two months since his father left. Yoongi had narrowly avoided thinking about the fact that his flight back to Korea lands tomorrow. His heart jams itself into his throat.

The buzzing cuts off abruptly. Yoongi bites his bottom lip anxiously.

"Yoongi-ah."

"...Father."

"How have you been? Attending the office, I hope?"

"..Yeah. I'm fine..."

"Well, I guess I'll cut to the chase. You're aware that I'll be back in Korea tomorrow."

It's not a question, Yoongi answers anyway.

"Um, yes."

"Good. The day after tomorrow, I'd like to meet with you and talk through a couple of things."

"Okay.."

"And... I'd like for you to bring your boyfriend along."

As quick as a flash of lightning, Yoongi spins around in his chair. His eyes meet Jungkook's and then flit to Hoseok's, they both mirror his expression of shock, confusion and fear.

"I-um-I don't...have a boyfriend.." His words are shaky and uncertain.

Rustling resounds from the other line, like someone is shuffling papers around.

"Park Jimin. Twenty-five. Currently sharing a flat with roommate Kim Taehyung. Owns a flower shop named 'Parks' conveniently across the street from yours. Went to Blue Feather University and graduated top of his class. Attended Woodslake Elementary and High school. Moved from Busan to Seoul at age eleven. Mother, Park Aae-Joung, fifty-one. Father, Park L-"

"Alright! You've made your point. What do you want with him?" Yoongi feels his jaw clench. He's always had a protective streak and his father's words stroke the embers to ignite a raging, furious flame deep within him. He feels a bit sick at the thought of his father hurting Jimin; his stomach churns.

"You make it sound like I'm going to murder him." He laughs. "No. I just want him to be there so you both can hear what I have to say."

"And... If I don't bring him along?"

"Then... You don't him along."

"What?"

"If you don't bring him, then he won't be there. Is that so confusing?"

"That's not what I-you're not like gonna... Threaten me or something?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Please do not act like that's not what you've been doing to me this whole time."

"Listen, son, I want him to be there for you. So you have a hand to hold. I think you'll need it. But you don't have to bring him there if you really don't want to."

Yoongi sighs. Not knowing how to respond.

"I'll let you think it over. Text me when you've made your decision and I'll decide a time for us to meet."

A click, then a beep, and then the line goes dead.

-

"Flight 3A leaving in T-minus ten minutes."

"We should get up, Do-yun." She places a hand on his shoulder. He takes her hand into his much larger one, holding it tight. "Chunja, darling, what would you do in my position?" She's a bit taken aback by this out-of-character question but smiles warmly anyway. "I don't think what I would do matters, you're the one who actually has to make the decision. Although I think the answer is already clear." Do-yun holds his breath, ready for his wife's insightful words. "Let him go."

He lets the breath free. Before standing up abruptly, hand still holding Chunja's. "We should board, now." He says, leading them toward the gates.

It had started two months ago, also at an airport. Do-yun had started to doubt. It was the anniversary of his father's death. Chunja was surprised to see tears prick her husband's eyes.

"Darling... Why are you crying?" She had asked. Do-yun remembers it vividly.

(All eyes glue themselves to him. Gazes sticky and viscous, unwilling to be torn away. They watch as glittery tears trail down his face and splash against the wood beneath him. The world holds its breath as it awaits his words. How must Do-yun feel after losing his only parent?

"Do-yun-sshi." One of the elders says, shaky hands, weak with time, reach up to lift his face and make eye contact. "How are you–" The man cuts himself off as he catches a glimpse at Do-yun's expression. His eyes are wide and glassy as salty rivers cascade down his face. His thin eyebrows are raised up high, as if he had just made a shocking realization. And his mouth is curved. Not downward like one would expect, but upward, lips stretching into an unsettling grin. "–Feeling..?" The elder still feels compelled to ask.

A breathy whisper resounds as watery eyes somehow only get wetter.

"Free.")